The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  HOW MY NEW MASTER MADE TRIAL OF A PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDERDIFFICULTIES.

  But now let us follow Reader. My master's rooms at Saint George'sCollege were of the poorest and meanest description; in fact it wouldnot be too much to describe them--the bedroom and study--as being like apair of big cupboards under a great staircase. They looked out onnothing more picturesque than a blank wall. They were carpeted withnothing better than an old drugget; and as for paper, the place wouldhave looked better simply whitewashed. They were suffocating in summerand draughty in winter, and at nights afforded rendezvous to a wholecolony of rats. Every step on the staircase above thundered down intothe study; the loosely-hung windows rattled even in a light breeze, andthe flavours of the college dustbins, hard by, appeared to have selectedthese chambers, above all others, for their favourite haunt. I am toldSaint George's College has recently undergone renovation. It so, it isprobable "the Mouse-trap"--for this was the designation by which GeorgeReader's classical domain was familiarly styled--has disappeared. Letus hope so, for a more miserable, uncomfortable, and uninviting coupleof rooms I never saw.

  But they had one merit, and that a great one: they were cheap, which toGeorge Reader meant everything. He had gained a small entrancescholarship, by the help of which he hoped, with the most rigid economy,to support himself during his college career. Most other young fellowswould have shrunk from the prospect, but such was my master's ambitionthat I believe he would have endured life in a stable if only he couldhave there enjoyed the advantages and encouragements of a collegecourse.

  It was, at any rate, a fine sight to see him settle down in his newdispiriting quarters, determined to make the best of everything, andsuffer nothing to damp his ardour for work. He unpacked his fewprecious books and laid them on the shelf; he hung up the likenesses ofhis father and mother over the chimney-piece; he produced the cheesewhich the latter had insisted on his bringing with him, and, as acrowning-effect, set me up on the mantel-shelf with as much pride as ifI had been a marble clock.

  "That looks something like!" he said to himself. "Now for a little tea,and then--grind!"

  The little tea, however, was "sooner said than done." It involved aprolonged hunt for the "gyp," or attendant, and a still more prolongedconference on the subject of hot water, tea, and bread. The suggestionsthrown out by the college official, too, were so very lordly andextravagant--such, for instance, as ham and eggs, chicken, marmalade,and chocolate--that poor George's heart fluttered as much as his mouthwatered while he listened. Chicken and chocolate for a poor student whohad barely enough money to afford so much as the luxury of living in the"Mouse-trap" of Saint George's! Well he might be scared at the idea!He politely declined the grand offer of his scout, and asking him tolight a small fire and procure him a loaf, sallied out himself into thetown and purchased a small and very cheap quantity of groceries. Withthese he returned in triumph to his rooms, and, with the utmostsatisfaction, partook of his first college meal, with a Euclid open onthe table beside him.

  Then pouring out a final cup of tea to enjoy, cold, later on, he"cleared the decks for action," as he called it, which meant puttingaway the tea, butter, sugar, and bread in a cupboard, and folding up thetable cloth. Poor George! he had no false pride to forbid such menialoffices; he had not the brag about him which would have led another tostand on the staircase and howl "Gyp" till every one far and near shouldbe made aware that he had had a meal which required clearing away. No;he was only a gamekeeper's son, in a hurry to get at his books; and tohim it was far more natural to wait on his own frugal table than sit instate till a servant should come and clear it.

  "Now," said he to himself, "I shall get a good quiet time for work.After all it's not bad to be one's own master where reading isconcerned."

  And without more ado he set himself down to his books, with me on thetable at his elbow, and his cup of tea within reach, when suchrefreshment should be desirable. It was a fine thing to see this youngfellow plunging straight into his work.

  Assuredly he had not come to college to fritter away his time--to row,play cricket, give wine-parties, or drive dog-carts; he had not evencome because it was "the thing," or afforded a "good introduction intothe world." No, he was here for one purpose, and one alone. That waswork. To him the days were as precious mines, and every minute anugget. It mattered nothing to him who won the cricket-match this year,who occupied the rooms next his, how many bumps the Saint George's boatmade on the river; far more important was the thought that perhaps theoil in his lamp would run short before the night was out, or whether theedition of Plato his friend the Muggerbridge clergyman had given him wasthe best, and contained the fullest notes. In short, George Reader wasin earnest.

  But, like the tea, the "good quiet time" he hoped for was not so easy tosecure. Scarcely had he settled down when the voices of two men in loudconversation rose, immediately under his window. Now, when one is inthe agony of trying to understand how it comes that a certain number ofangles in one figure are equal to a certain number of angles in another,it is, to say the least of it, confusing to have to listen to a spiritedaccount of a boxing-match between Jack Straight and the Hon. WilfredDodge; and when that account manages to get interwoven inextricably withthe problem in hand the effect is likely to be distracting; forinstance:--

  "Since the solid angle at B is contained by three plane angles, BAF,FAC, and CAB, then--"

  "Jack let out and got in sweetly under his man's guard," and so on.

  "Therefore," persevered George, "the angles ABC and ABF--"

  "Rounded on him grandly, and--"

  "The angles ABC and ABF are together greater than the angle CBF; and,similarly--"

  Here the conversation was continued in language far more worthy of thedisgraceful prize-ring than a college, until George could bear it nolonger. He leapt from his seat and sprang to the window, which heopened. Leaning out, he surveyed the two disturbers of his peace withvery little affection, but controlled himself sufficiently to saypolitely,--

  "Would you mind not talking just here? I'm reading."

  One of the two scowled up at him, and replied,--

  "What business is it of yours where we talk?"

  "Come on, Fisher," said the other, taking his arm; "let the man read ifhe wants; I suppose that's the poor beggar who's come to the `trap.'"

  "He's got a cool cheek of his own, whoever he is," retorted theindignant Fisher.

  George was too relieved to be rid of their clatter under his window totrouble himself as to their sentiments towards himself, and he thereforeonce again settled down to work.

  But now a new interruption occurred.

  There arose a sudden rush of feet outside his door, a laughing and acheering, in the midst of which he caught the following confusedutterances:

  "George's has bumped Corpus!" cried a voice.

  [See Note 1.]

  "Hurrah!" yelled half a dozen voices.

  "It was the finest bit of rowing ever you saw," continued the firstspeaker. "Bailey put it on from the very first stroke, and was on thetop of them before the Point."

  And then the three cheers and yells rose again.

  "You can fancy how black and blue Corpus looked--it's the biggest sellthey've had for a long time."

  Once more the shouts.

  "And what do you think?" resumed the first speaker. "Old Bailey vows hewon't come to the supper to-night. Did ever you hear of such an oldbear?"

  "He'll have to come," cried the rest; "let's waylay him here and carryhim off."

  "All serene," said the leader; "he's sure to come here--let's hang abouton the stairs."

  Oh, horrors! here were six noisy men going to establish themselves onthe stairs over poor George's head, and remain there until their victimarrived, when, unless college traditions were utterly false, there wouldcertainly be a battle royal. It was impossible, with the cheering andstamping and shouting and laughing, and scuffling overhead, to do astrok
e of work, and yet George did his best. He pulled his table intothe corner of the room farthest away from the noise, and, burying hishead in his hands, struggled desperately to abstract himself from thedisturbance. But as sure as he succeeded for a minute, a clamour louderthan ever would drive _every_ idea out of his head. It was vain toattempt expostulation--what would these jubilant revellers care for apoor new man like him!--and he had nowhere else to go to escape themthere was nothing for it but to be patient. In due time the victoriousand unsuspecting Bailey, accompanied by four of his friends, appeared onthe scene, and their approach was the immediate signal for action. Witha cheer and a howl the ambush sprang upon their victims; and, with equalvehemence, these, having rapidly taken in the state of affairs, preparedto defend themselves. Poor George might as well have been sitting underNiagara. Step by step, the new-comers strove to force a passage up toBailey's rooms, and step by step the opposing force strove to repulsethem. The balustrades creaked, the ceiling of George's room quaked, andthe walls thundered with the weight of conflicting bodies. Theoccupants of every room on the staircase turned out to see the fun, andon hearing of Bailey's contumacy, joined with his persecutors inrefusing him the shelter of his own sanctuary. Bailey's party, on theother hand, was joined by reinforcements from without, who stormed upthe stairs with the noise of an earthquake. The opposing forces soonbecame so great that the press of battle raged even to the door ofGeorge's study, which creaked and rattled as if every moment it wereabout to yield and admit the whole tide of conflict.

  For half an hour the tumult roared and the battle swayed, and neitherparty gained nor yielded a foot.

  Then suddenly from the confines of the battle rose and spread a cry of"Cave canem!" on which, as if by magic, the action was suspended, andretreating footsteps betokened a panic. A rally was sounded by Bailey'sfoes, but too late; the hero of the day had taken advantage of themomentary pause to dash past his persecutors and gain his study, andonce there no force could dislodge him. The vanquished ones stormed andraged outside his door for another ten minutes, threatening all sorts ofvengeance; then with three mighty cheers they struck camp and retired,leaving the staircase in peace.

  Thus ended the famous battle of Bailey's Staircase, at the end of whichGeorge, with sunken spirits but indomitable resolution, sat down againto work.

  For half an hour he made good progress, without let or hindrance, when--ah, cruel fate!--a wretch calling himself a man, in a neighbouringapartment, began to practise on the ophicleide! At the first noteGeorge bounded from his seat as if he had been shot, and literally torehis hair. This was worse than all that had gone before. To one of hismusical inspiration, the human voice divine in conversation was,endurable, and the roar of battle might even be tolerable, but to hear acreature attempt to play one of the "songs without words" on aninstrument he knew as little of as the music he was parodying, wasbeyond all bearing! Then, if ever, did my wretched master dig hisfingers into his ears, and writhe and shiver and groan at each discordproduced by that inhuman performer. He retreated into the innermostrecess of his bedroom; he even hid his unhappy head beneath the clothes,if haply he might escape the agony of this torture. But it washopeless. The shrieks and groans of that brutal ophicleide would havepenetrated the walls of the Tower of London.

  It lasted, I should not like to say how long; and when it was over, therecollection of its horrors was almost as bad as their endurance. WhenGeorge set himself again to work, it was with nerves unstrung andunutterable forebodings, yet still unconquered.

  "At any rate," said he to himself, with a sigh, "there can't be anythingworse than that--unless, indeed, he invites a friend like himself topractise duets with him!"

  Happily this climax was not reached, and for one evening the worst ofGeorge Reader's persecutions had been suffered--but not the last.

  By the time the last wail of the ophicleide had wriggled away intosilence it was getting late, and the college was meditating retirementto rest. This operation was not got through, as may be imagined,without a good deal of clamour and a good deal of scuffling on thestaircase, and a good deal of dialogue outside the window; but in duetime silence reigned, and George congratulated himself that he had aquiet time at last before him.

  Unlucky boast! Not an hour had passed, the lights in the windows roundthe courtyard had vanished, the distant shouts had ceased, and thefootsteps on the pavement without had died away, when George wasstartled by a sound that seemed like the boring of a hole under hisfireplace. The noise grew, and other similar noises rose in differentparts. What was it? Surely the gay students of Saint George's were notabout to effect an amateur burglary on the friendless owner of the"Mouse-trap?"

  Nearer and nearer came the sounds, and George's heart beat loud. Heclosed his book and pushed his chair back from the table, ready todefend himself, on an emergency, to the bitter end. Then, under thehearth, there was a sound of scraping and grating, then a rushing noise,and then George saw--two enormous rats!

  Loud and long laughed my master to himself at the discovery. What cared_he_ for rats? He pulled his chair back to the table, and buriedhimself in his book for the next three hours, until his lamp began toburn low, and the letters on the pages grew blurred and dim, and therats had scuffled back by the way they came, and my flagging handspointed to four o'clock.

  Then George Reader, after kneeling in silent prayer, went to bed.

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  Note 1. At the college races at Cambridge the boats start one behindthe other at fixed distances, and any boat overtaking and "bumping" theone in front of it moves up a place nearer to the "Head of the River."